Curiosities
by Kirariana
Summary: People seek understanding: Of both themselves and their peers. The desire to learn of one another comes in many forms, and the answers you find can be what you least expect. A tale told in drabbles. Albel/Fayt eventually.
1. Chapter 1

Albel Nox didn't know what to do with the blue haired fool called Fayt Leingod.

He had called the younger man his prey, and in some ways that was the most accurate description he could find for how he felt towards the maggot.

It was infuriating, but he was at a loss. That easy acceptance and intuitive _knowing_ that Fayt had, it confused him, enraged him. No matter how he tried, he couldn't seem to rattle the de facto leader of their tawdry little group, and oh, how he _tried_.

He could still remember that night in Peterny, when he'd decided to have a little fun... and to show where he stood when he was forced to accompany them to the lava caves. He'd gone along for the ride on the King's orders, but he'd wanted to make matters clear: He was not an ally, and he was not going to be a 'friend'. Working with them did not mean he had _changed_.

The fool's reaction when he'd planted his sword bare inches from his face had been _delightful_. The way he'd yelled and kicked his way out of the covers to stare in shock had assured him that the status quo was intact, but something about Fayt made him want to hear it from his own mouth.

'Do you hate me?' Such a simple question, and he'd thought he'd done more than enough in even the past few minutes to ascertain what his response would be. For Fayt to answer any other way but 'Yes' seemed like insanity to Albel. It was the answer he predicted, the answer he expected, the answer he _wanted_.

It was not the answer he got. With that one midnight conversation, he had made himself even more of a curiosity to Albel than their fight in the Bequerel Mountains had.

He'd decided then and there that he wanted... no, _needed _to pick apart the open enigma that was Fayt Leingod.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, I forgot to do this last time, didn't I? Hello! I'm Kiraria, and this will be my first (posted, anyway) fanfic! Albel and Fayt have always had interesting chemistry potential in my opinion, so I decided to work on writing my own take on the pairing, one interconnected drabble at a time. Because this is my first fanfic, I'd really appreciate any and all input and advice through reviews, since I'm still learning the systems here.

And right, warnings! This fic might contain mild psychological elements, if the description didn't give enough clues. While I like this pairing, I have always been of the opinion it would never be entirely typical or cut and dry healthy on either side, and that's what makes it so fascinating to me. So I hope you enjoy!

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><p><span><strong>Chapter<strong> **2**

Ever since they'd left Airyglyph with the Glyphian captain in tow, Fayt had felt like he was being watched.

It didn't take long to figure out _who_, but his guesses as to _why_ were many. At first, he'd thought the swordsman was angry that he was being forced to work with former enemies. He hadn't sounded happy at all down there in the dungeons, chained to the wall and condemned by his own king, only to be told his only chance of obtaining freedom was to undertake what he seemed to think was a potentially insane mission alongside enemies who had already humiliated him once on the battlefield.

And Fayt knew the word 'humiliate' was accurate, even if Albel hadn't... and likely never would, remark on it. He'd wanted it that way, after all. At the time, he'd been furious over what had been done to Tynave and Farleen... and Albel's belittling attitude certainly hadn't helped matters.

He'd _enjoyed_ beating Albel, and making the smug man eat his own words had, at the time, given him vicious satisfaction.

Seeing what that defeat had done to the man, locking him in the Airyglyph dungeons, had sent a shot of guilt through him, but the past was in the past. He'd just have to deal with whatever Albel threw his way, whether it be anger, payback or otherwise.

When Albel snuck into his room to lodge a length of sharpened steel bare inches from his face, he'd woken with a start, annoyed and... well, he'd been expecting the obvious when Albel demanded he come outside. He figured he was about to find out what Albel's version of payback was, and followed him outside with some degree of wariness.

It was not what he expected. The surprising question of 'Do you hate me?' was bizarre for that time of night, nearly enough for annoyance to rise up again, but even after being dragged out of his bed at who knows what hour of the morning, he knew that somehow, there was some sort of deeper meaning there.

He took several moments to respond. The question was so pointed... what was he getting at?

"Not really." had been his answer. And while it might not have been as true a few weeks before... it was now, after everything he'd seen and learned on Elicoor. He wasn't a soldier like Nel or Albel... he wasn't even experienced with politics like Cliff. But he knew it wasn't his place to judge how things worked here, now. War was another thing altogether, compared to fighting monsters or fighting to survive.

Albel's surprise and the downright confused questioning of his response just made the whole episode all the more curious. He'd clearly been expecting something else out of Fayt. No, he _wanted_ something else.

It made Fayt wonder what exactly Albel Nox was thinking, that night. And Fayt was never one to let curiosity go so easily.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello guys, chapter three is here! I know I took a long break, but I do plan to update this thing still. Thank you for all the reviews, especially the advice on my writing. I also have a question for you: Can anyone tell me how to make line breaks happen up here?

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

As the days passed on their trek to the the mountains of Barr, Albel had begun to observe Fayt more closely than before. But unlike during their trip to Peterny for supplies, now Fayt seemed almost _ease_ under his watch. It was infuriating that the maggot seemed to no longer find him threatening after their midnight chat, and he would have taken more issue with it if it didn't afford him a boon: It was easier to observe him when he was acting so relaxed.

He would figure him out yet, pull him apart and see what made him tick... and then he'd have the fool at his mercy when he least expected it, prove himself the stronger. It was a perfect opportunity to observe his prey when the fool offered his trust so freely, even if he would ever doubt the sense in such a choice.

And after some time watching Fayt fight, he had come to an amusing conclusion.

The fool liked to fight. Reveled in it, even. For all he talked big, the eager light in his eyes when they engaged the monsters that inhabited the mountain pass spoke for him. He wasn't as obvious about it like the blonde man named Cliff, but he'd seen the signs clear as day in the way he became alert when they ran into a group of beasts, in how he threw himself into battle with a vigor that was more than the desire to protect oneself. Truly, he should have seen it the first time they fought.

It was almost like it was sport to him at times. The boy might claim to not understand his desire to be strong, but he certainly seemed to take his own variety of fulfillment from the battles they found on their path through the mountains. On occasion, he could even spot a small grin on his face after a particularly exciting battle, or hear him mutter something about it being _fun_.

But another thing he noticed provided him with more confusion. While Fayt fought with sttength and skill, there was something off about how he fought. He was strong, but there was no uniformity in how he moved. It wasn't the fighting style of a soldier for sure; it was what he'd seen more often in mercenaries, or a layman.

It left him with a very important question, one he needed an answer to:

Where in the world had he learned how to fight?


End file.
